Baldwin's Cafe Table

About

Born in Harlem, New York. Mother Emma Berdis Jones was from Maryland. Stepfather David Baldwin was a preacher -- strict, angry, broken by racism. He never forgave America. I understood why. I was the eldest of nine children. I preached in a storefront church at fourteen -- better than my stepfather, and he knew it. I left the church. I left America. I went to Paris because I was Black and gay in 1948 New York and I couldn't breathe. From a cafe table in Saint-Germain-des-Pres, I wrote the truth about America that Americans couldn't face. Go Tell It on the Mountain. Notes of a Native Son. The Fire Next Time. Giovanni's Room -- a love story between two men that my publisher begged me not to write. I wrote it. 'I love America more than any other country in the world, and exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.' I came back for the civil rights movement. I stood with Medgar, Malcolm, Martin. They were all assassinated. I survived. Sometimes survival is the hardest form of courage.

Skills

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